Free people of Mordor
by felixvader
Summary: After the War of the Ring, the land around the Sea of Nurnen was given to the freed slaves so that they could start their own community. This story is about the hardships the villagers and their inexperienced chief Armal experienced as they carve out a life in harsh Mordor. Meanwhile, a new threat is brewing in the ruins of Barad-Dur. Can they survive?
1. Just some notes

This page is just for those people who did not read or watch Lord of the Rings

If you had read and understood LOTR, please skip this and move to the next chapter

Lord of the Rings is basically about a war between the free independent races of people( Human, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit…) and the Dark Lord Sauron and his army of orcs. Sauron had much more power than the free people combined, but he stored all his power on a gold ring, which he lost. A hobbit called Frodo obtained the ring and while the human armies fought Sauron's orcs, he and his friend Sam crept into Sauron's realm, Mordor, and dropped the ring into a volcano, effectively destroying Sauron.

In [The Return of the King], King Elessar of the human race gave the freed slaves from Mordor a piece of land in the now destroyed Mordor for them to farm and start a community. But Mordor is a dangerous and barren place, filled with smoke, ash and devoid of all life except the vicious and cruel orcs, who inhabit uninhabited places and kill whoever crosses them. How will the newly freed slaves survive there? Read on to find out.


	2. Prologue

Prologue

The former slave, Armal, stood trembling in front of the city fortress of Minas Tirith. He had no idea what had happened in the past few hours, what was happening now and what would happen to his life for well, the rest of his life.

Armal had slaved under the tyranical rule of the Dark Lord Sauron for as long as he could remember. He had never seen the sunlight behind the dark, ominous clouds of volcanic ash and Black Magic that enclosed and choked Mordor. From his childhood until a few hours ago, he had turned a huge metal wheel perpetually along with a band of other pitiful looking slaves. An armoured orc stood by the group, occasionally taking a swig from his metal bottle filled with repulsive gunk or whipping a slave for no reason at all. He had absolutely no idea of the wheel's function but was sure it was but a small part of Saurons elaborate plan for world domination.

A few hours ago, he had been turning the same old wheel. It had been about 15 years since he had been enslaved, 15 years of wasting his strength powering Sauron's black dreams. The wheel felt much heavier than ever and he knew that his days were numbered. Just as he was about to collaspe from exhaustion, there was an almighty crack and the cavern he was stationed in shuddered. Then, there was a roar of thunder and the ceiling of the cavern collasped. His wheel fell of its hinges and slammed into the ground, instantly crushing his orc supervisor. The rest of Sauron's vile machine fell apart, the bigger parts exploding in purple and black tongues of flame as if the magic holding it together had abruptly been broken. Mystified he and the other slaves walked out of the cavern, which he had not left for many years.

The first thing Armal saw was brightness. It burned into his retinas and by instinct, he dropped to the ground in a vain effort to shield his eyes. Soon, however, he had adjusted to the new light and a wondrous sight met his eyes. The orc army that numbered a hundred thousand at the very least had scattered, replaced by grim faced men in shining white armour on horseback. They drove into the ranks of the remaining orcs which also fled in terror. The symbol of Sauron's power, Barad-Dur, had been reduced to a pile of ash and rubble. Sunlight shone through the rapidly thinning ash clouds. Armal looked at all this and knew that Sauron, his master, had been killed.

Suddenly, the bells of Minas Tirith rang, bringing Armal back to the present. 2 guards had escorted him the place where the gates of the city used to be. He had no idea what he had done to attract the attention of the king of Minas Tirith. Facing the lines of the honor guard that were rapidly approaching him,signalling the arrival of a king or an important general, he hoped he had not done any wrong.

The honor guard parted to reveal a man wearing the uniform of a messanger of Gondor. He dismounted from his horse and told Armal that the lands around the sea of Nurnen in Mordor would, from this day onwards, belong to the freed slaves of Mordor. " With the staple food, water, and basic building materials the generous King Elessar had provided," the messanger continued, gesturing at the few dozen horse-drawn carriages behind him, " You and the other free slaves will be able to create and manage your own village in the relatively fertile banks of Nurnen. Due to Mordor's bad geographical location, however, we will not be able to send any more help after this. Good Luck."


	3. Chapter 1: Just a minor riot

Chapter 1

2 years later, a village near Lake Nurnen, in the remains of Mordor

**It has been 2 years since the end of the War of The Ring. King Elessar of Gondor had given the freed slaves of Mordor the lands around the sea of Nurnen and some basic food and drink so that they could start their own community. Unfortunately, after they had built their simple village of brick huts and named it Nurnea, they had ceased to do anything productive and spent their days drinking from barrels of cheap beer they had found in an abandoned orc stronghold. **

The 2 enormous bruisers, named Dugo and Lugo, laughed wickedly as they hauled the struggling Armal between them through the dirt road of Nurnea. The newlyfounded town of Nurnea was basically a collection of mud brick huts arranged in no particular order. The roads were filled with rotten refuse and other unpleasant stuff. Every few minutes, they would see a group of thugs viciously beating up a smaller person. A small crowd gathered around each fight, jeering at the hapless victim or 'helping out'. Armal gulped. Soon, he would be one of them.

The 2 thugs arrived at the town square and deposited him right in the middle of the crowd that was waiting there. The crowd that consisted of burly ex-slaves, their families and even a few goblins started jeering, shouting insults and throwing rotten refuse and rocks at him. One yelled," Let's string him up!" and produced a rope and noose from within his shabby and mud-caked robes. The others yelled in agreement and within minutes, Armal was standing on a chair with a rope around his neck. The chair was about to be kicked away when another person shouted, " Wait! We should listen to what he has to say first!"

Armal cleared his throat and began." Free people of Nurnea, lend me your ears. For years, we had been comfortably living on the supplies generously given to us by King Elessar. But now, our supplies are fast running out. We only have enough food, oil and beer for about 2 more weeks at most. We must start farming and raising livestock now or we will all perish." The townsfolk hissed and booed him. They hated hard work as much as they hated him. After they were freed from slavery, they had tried to avoid work as it reminded them of their time in slavery, where they had labored like pack horses.

"Secondly," he continued, ignoring the discontentment of the crowd, " Wild orcs still roam the ruins of Mordor. Our village does not provide us adequate defence from them and due to our instrategic location, Gondor or Rohan could not send troops have to build a wall around our village and forge weapons to defend ourselves." Lugo stepped forward and brandished his fist." Why do we need Gondor or Rohan when we have THIS?" Everyone roared in approval.

" Finally and most importantly, we need a leader…." Armal began again but Lugo got enough. He held Armal up by his shirt collar( Armal was much smaller than the others in the village) and bellowed at him," And you think you are fit to become one?!" Armal, being the truthful guy he is, nodded. After all, he seemed to be the only person in the village who cares about its fate. Meanwhile, Lugo completely lost his temper." You are small, you are weak and you want to make us servants and slaves again!" He turned and addressed the crowd,"This man is useless to this village. Hang him!" Just then, someone shouted," Orcs are coming!" and the square fell silent. The unmistakable sound of orc drums was getting louder and louder. So was the heavy thumping of orc feet and the low scraping sound of swords being drawn.


	4. Chapter 2: first battle of Nurnea

Chapter 2

Suddenly, there was a sharp whistling sound and a dozen villagers dropped to the ground with black-feathered arrows sprouting from their chests. The fallen villagers had nothing in common except for one thing: They were innocent and random people. Some of them were children no more than 10 years old. The rest of the people looked at each other in shock with absolutely no idea what to do. There was another whistling sound and another dozen of them fell. The villagers still stood frozen in their places. Then, someone screamed in terror and the spell that held everyone dumbstruck abruply broke. The town square erupted into chaos.

Orcs poured into the square in an enormous black wave, engulfing everything that came into their path. Villagers died. Houses burned down. Valuables were taken. A battle troll wearing thick blackened armor plates and armed with a spiked club the size of a tree trunk waded through the crowds, every now and then reducing a house into rubble. On the ground, the townsfolk ran around in panic and trampled others in their confusion. Orcs gloated and raised their ever hungry swords over and over. Only one person remained calm. It was Armal, who stood on the execution platform with his head still in the noose

Despite his calm expression, Armal felt rage boil up inside of him. He knew that the orcs would not spare anyone, not even the innocents. The unlucky ones might become enslaved again. The thought of going back to slavery was simply unbearable. His anger infused his veins with new energy and he bellowed at the routing villagers." Nurneans! Forward! " He seized an old metal bar and launched himself off the platform, into the horde of orcs.

At first, he fought alone, slamming orcs around him senseless with his metal bar. Just as he thought that no one had heard his call and that he was about to be overwhelmed, a second villager appeared next to him, brandishing a broken table leg. A third and fourth came. More eventually came to his aid, holding common household objects like cart wheels and beer bottles and soon, the entire village, or what's left of it, rallied to him.

For hours, they fought brutally and viciously. The orcs fear their leader and would rather die than recount their defeat to him. The villagers simply had nothing to lose and were fighting for their survival. They fought for every single metre of land, paying dearly in blood doing so. Finally, the orcs, seeing that the villagers had a leader and no longer acted like terrified sheep, turned and fled back to the dark mountains, the ash clouds that had not yet dispersed providing them cover.

Armal stood at the head of the crowd panting, his clothes torn to shreds and his metal bar broken( orcs apparently had thick skulls). By luck, he did not suffer serious injuries and only a few cuts and scratches. The rest of the village, however, was not as lucky as him.

Half of the population had been slaughtered, and many more bore serious injuries, some fatal. Even more unlucky were the few dozen missing people, presumably taken back to the living death of slavery. Most of the houses had been destroyed by fire or the trolls, leaving many homeless. The storage house had burned down, along with a week's worth of food. One thing was clear to all of them: They could not survive another attack.

Lugo walked up to Armal and muttered, " You're right. I'd hate to admit it, the rest of the village does too, but we do need a leader." He bowed deeply and said," Your orders, chief?"


	5. Chapter 3: A leader

_TA 3021_

_Because of his valour and courage in the first battle of Nurnea, and his reasonable proposal of the improving of Nurnea, the council of Nurnea is delighted to bestow upon Armal, a citizen, the position of High Chief of Nurnea._

Signed:

_The (Inofficial) Council of Nurnea,_

_Representatives of the Nurnean population of 5000 citizens_

Cyanus, Bartender

Skryder, veteran

Qwertus, veteran

Larcener, Mechanic/Builder

Armal stood on a hill overlooking the lake of Nurnen. The surrounding land had been converted into wheat and barley fields where a few dozen people labored. Originally, the land had been too barren to yield fruit and grain, but by accident they found out that troll dung was an excellent fertiliser and they had mixed it with the ground ever since. A line of barns housing sheep and cattle stood on the banks of the lake, and some of the livestock grazed at the banks of the lake, grazing on the resilient weeds that had sprung up there.

The village of Nurnea had become much better fortified in the 6 months since Armal had been sworn in to office. A 3 meter high brick wall surrounded the village, warding off common orcs. War veterans armed with swords and bows taken from fallen orcs stood every few meters on its top, always on the ready to defend Nurnea. For the highly improbable occasion of the wall getting breached, the town square had been converted into an orc-proof, troll-proof, fire-proof and bomb-proof bunker where everyone could take refuge in. The bunker was equipped with the latest of defense technology ( salvaged from an orc warehouse) and filled with enough food and water for a whole month. The village had already survived 2 more sieges with minimal casualties.

Armal walked into the village bar, where he was greeted with cheers of ," Long live the chief!" The village was doing relatively well compared to last time and the villagers were grateful for his leadership. The peace treaty between the west and east of middle earth had made Nurnea, which lies in between the two, part of the trade route connecting them and thus an important trading hub. The merchants from both sides would rest and trade in Nurnea, bringing them buisness, money and news. Overall, those were good times.

In the village bar, Armal ordered a tankard of beer made from the Nurnean barley fields and drank deeply, enjoying himself after a long day of supervising the new construction projects which would include more houses, watch towers and a new storage warehouse and dealing with the extensive paperwork usually connected with leadership. On the next table sat two grizzled veterans chatting with a group of merchants.

" Did you hear about what happened 15 miles from here?" said one of the merchants.

" No. What happened?" asked one of the veterans who Armal recognised as Skryder, captain of the village guard.

" It was horrible! A cart bearing the emblem of Gondor was found wrecked on the side of the road. All 20 Royal Guardsmen were found dead and the safe they were protecting was broken open and emptied!" another merchant said with a shiver.

" The work of those filthy orcs, definitely. You can never be too safe in Mordor." muttered the other guard who was Skryder's second in command, Qwertus.

" It was not! The guardsmen were unmarked by any orc weapon. However, their veins had became black in colour and their expression was one of horror. "

" Aye! This has been done by dark magic. I sense that big events are unfolding " finished the first merchant, who wore an extensive collection of amulets and bracelets of protection.

Skryder started to open his mouth, probably to laugh at the superstitious merchants and their ridiculous tales, when the village alarm bells started ringing. Like what protocol dictated, everyone put down their mugs and made their way to the bunker in an orderly manner.

" Skryder! Qwertus! Report to village walls." Armal called." We have work to do." Despite the ludricousity of the merchant's story, he had a gut feeling that he was telling the truth. Big events are unfolding, he thought as he walked to the walls to organise the defense.


	6. Chapter 4: Second battle of Nurnea

Armal, Skryder, Qwertus and the other defenders watched from the city walls as the orc army assembled into ranks and formation as their yet unseen commander instructed them. The orc army moved with such discipline and speed and within minutes, 15 neat squares of a hundred battle orcs each stood defiently in front of the city walls, pounding their iron swords on their circular iron shields, yelling obscenities in the Black Speech of Mordor at the 500 defenders on the walls. A row of 5-meter high trolls wielding a battering ram the size of a fully-grown pine tree stood in front of the main body of the army.

Armal frowned. Orcs never attacked with such discipline and their raids were usually just hordes of unorganised and mostly unequipped orcs charging at the walls, where they would be slaughtered by arrows as they tried to scale the wall without equipment. Now, it seemed as itf the orcs had found a solid leadership, which would make them much more deadly. The chances of getting out of the battle safely shrank considerably. However, fleeing the village was also not an option. They could only fight and hope for the best.

Slowly, Skryder raised his hand and all the defenders on the walls, war veterans who had been captured by the enemy and released again, nocked an arrow into their bows. At the same time, the orc army marched forward in perfect rhythm like they had trained to do so for years. Skryder unsheathed his sword, pointed it at the enemy and yelled,"Fire!"

An arc of death shot from the walls and into the incoming orcs. Some found their mark and sent globules of greenish-black blood spinning into the air, but most of them lodged into their thick iron armor or into their shields. In perfect unison, the orcs all raised their shields above their heads to stop any more incoming projectiles. Skryder yelled the order again and again, but to not much effect. He growled in frustration and readied his sword and shield.

By then, the army was less then 50 metres from the gates. The trolls started to ready their battering ram to destroy the gate. Armal knew that the gate could not withstand more than a few blows from the ram. He took out a bow and shot a few times at the eyes of a troll. One found their mark and the troll howled in pain and toppled, crushing a dozen orcs. However, it immediately began to go back up and as it did so, Armal spotted a small figure behind the neck of the troll, guiding it to battle with a whip or some unseen mechanism.

Skryder saw this too, and he beckoned 2 defenders to go downstairs with him, leaving Qwertus in command. Qwertus ordered all the soldiers to shoot more arrows at the incoming orcs, then readied his spear for hand to hand combat. Suddenly, an armored figure with a spear in hand shot from the village weapons workshop into the sky, probably thrown by one of the prototype catapults they were building in the workshop. Armal realised it was Skryder, who was known far and wide for his reckless bravery. He landed on the head of a troll and slammed his spear into the troll's hard skull. It broke with a sickening _crunch._ The troll went crazy, shaking off its controller and knocking down a few more trolls, which knocked down even more orcs. Skryder desperately held on to the spear which was still embedded in the troll's forehead.

Meanwhile, the rest of the army had reached the gates. Due to the lack of a battering ram, they instead tossed hooked ropes and ladders up the wall to scale it. All the defenders drew their swords, slashing the scaling ropes and pushing back ladders. They threw stones and other common objects like tables, chairs and bricks down. Occasionally, an orc would make it over the wall and 2 defenders would cut it down and throw it back down to the enemy. However, the defenders were greatly outnumbered and many times a soldier would topple down from the wall with a fatal wound in his chest or an orc arrow sticking out of him. The orcs, seeing that the defenders were weakening, surge forward with renewed determination. Soon, the wall would be taken.

Suddenly, Armal remembered seeing a large tub of cooking oil in the kitchens below. He also remembered seeing a dozen casks of high quality wine during his inspection of the village earlier that day. He ordered a few soldiers off the wall to bring them all up, to their surprise and confusion. The wall was in chaos now, with orcs coming up in a steady stream to battle the defenders. Armal took out his sword and joined the battle, slashing orcs left and right. Once, a 6 feet tall orc sporting a red and black decorative breastplate, presumably an orc chief, blocked his path. Armal raised his sword to block the orc's spiked mace and kicked it between the legs, causing it to howl in pain and topple to the ground where it was trampled by more orcs, which Armal slashed down one by one, desperately trying to buy time for the containers of flammable liquid to arrive.

10 torturous minutes later, a dozen soldiers finally rolled the casks onto the wall and distributed them around. Qwertus asked Armal for the order to throw the casks and light them up. Armal shook his head and continued fighting the orcs. The orcs were getting more and more densly packed against the wall as they tried to get up the wall first. Finally, when the orcs were so densely packed that they were more like a black wave of evil than an army, when the defenders were nearly overwhelmed, when the orcs shrieked and howled in victory, that was when Armal bellowed:

"Now!"

With a single unified grunt, 13 soldiers lifted up the containers and hurled them down to the wave of orcs, where they broke and unleashed a wave of highly flammable liquid that quickly caught fire when Qwertus threw his torch down. Orcs died by the hundreds, then by the thousands. The air was filled with tortured screams, death groans and the stink of burnt orc flesh. The light sensitive trolls dropped to the ground in an effort to protect their eyes as the fleeing orcs trampled over them. In a few minutes, the battlefield was empty of life except for the countless crows which swarmed the dead, feasting off their flesh. The defenders had won, but no one was in the mood to celebrate. Armal picked up the breastplate of a fallen orc. It bore the symbol of a red and gold eye, the insignia of Sauron.

"Summon a war council," he instructed Qwertus. The sound of expeletives of the best quality resonated from the battlefield."I'll get Skryder."


	7. Chapter 5: The Council

Chapter 5: The Council of Nurnea

_Bar is closed for private gatherimg_

_And preparation of possibly doomsday_

_We apologise for the inconvenience_

The sign hung on the creaky wooden door of one of the many drinking houses in the town. For now, the city was still closed and unavailable for buisness, not that anyone would go trading in such dangerous times. The majority of the population was still holing up in the bunker/ underground cave system that served as a refuge in times of war. The only people in the city were the soldiers on guard on the walls, the wounded who were hastily treated in the makeshift hospital set up near the walls and of course the Council of Nurnea who were assembling in the bar.

The first to arrive was of course, the bartender Cyanus, an elderly and rather dwarfish lady who could barely be seen over the high bar table. She was elected to the council for her wisdom gathered from her long years, her popularity among the crowd and of course her good social skills.

The second was Larcener, a tall and broad man with a long grey beard that reached down to his chest but was completely bald. He always wore old tattered clothes and his face always had a fine layer of soot on it. He had gained his worksmanship skills and large bulging muscles from working in Sauron's workhouses where he had, against his will, created many wonderful and yet horrible machines of war. He had designed and helped built the many defensive layers that protected the city

Then came the two captains of the Town Guard, Skryder and Qwertus, and Armal the Chief himself. Skryder was being supported by Armal and Qwertus. Skryder was completely exhausted but otherwise okay, with the exception of a large dent in his breastplate that looked suspiciously like a troll's backside. The two captains were both tall and lean, with dangerous-looking dark eyes and a grim expression on their faces. In their armor they looked very similar and the only way to differentiate them was Skryder's spectacular mustache that curved in huge fancy loops. They had both proven themselves in clashes with orcs.

Armal looked very ordinary and a little on the small side, but somehow, if someone would look at him closely, they would see great intellect and determination in his eyes and know he was different.

" So!" Cyanus clapped her wrinkled and veined hands together. " Let's begin, shall we?" She walked over to the wine rack to pour out some drinks, only to find it completely empty, courtesy of Armal, who had used it earlier for the battle.

" Never mind the drink," Larcener hastily said." We must now discuss about orc's newfound leadership, what it will will do to us and how to destroy it. That will be the subject of our meeting today. Qwertus, kindly fill us in on the details of the attack."

" As you all know," Qwertus began, " the orcs had attacked us today with extraordinary discipline and efficiency that is virtually unknown to most orcs. A third of our village guard was slain. We are unlikely to be able to defend the town against another attack of the same kind."

Skryder frowned." As I was hanging from the spear lodged in the troll's head, I think I spotted about 50 men who were aiding the orcs. From the battlefield, my men had salvaged a few pieces of armor and equipment built to the proportions of a man. All their armor was inscribed with Sauron's Evil Eye symbol. I believe that one of Sauron's greater servants is trying to stir up trouble again."

Suddenly, half a dozen unarmored man with a swords in hand and reddish eyes that were filled with madness crashed through the window and charged straight for Armal. He ducked a slash from one of the madmen and threw his chair at him, at the same time kicking a second straight into the wine rack. Both madmen crumpled and as he was about to draw his sword to dispatch the others, he was shoved to the floor and before he could get up, a third madman was standing over him, his sword raised above his head. " Surrender to the will of my master!" he rasped in a voice that sounded like scraping metal and plunged his sword down.

" Smash!" A large beerbottle shattered on the madman's head, dropping him to the ground. The beerbottle had been thrown by Cyanus from across the room with deadly accuracy. Armal looked up and found that the other madmen had all been killed by his friends. Skryder paced around the bar to search fot more hidden assassins." How the _

did they get across the wall?!" he shouted.

Armal bent down and gasped in recognition," These men are not outsiders. They are wounded soldiers who were in the medical bay just a few minutes ago." He examined all six assassins. All of them had a similar sized and shaped wound. Green pus oozed out of the wounds. The veins around it had turned black and pulsed with evil. The wounds were the same as the ones that had killed the guardsmen from Gondor.

Qwertus muttered." The merchants we drank with earlier today were right. This must be the magic of some foul sorcerer to the service of Sauron. He must be the man behind the organised attack."

Armal suddenly stood up and announced," My friends, we now face a threat that could destroy us all. Therefore, I propose a quest to find the sorcerer's stronghold and kill him to avoid any uneccessary bloodshed. I will be the first member of the expedition. Two of you will stay and manage the town, while the other two will join me. Any volunteers? "

Predictably, the 2 captains volunteered for the quest, either because of their bravery or to preserve their honor. Which leaves one mechanic and one bartender to manage the village.

" But sir, " Larcener protested." What if the orcs decide to attack again?"

"They won't," Armal reassured him." I will be back in about a week or two, and even orcs do not attack people that frequently. Just as a safety precaution, everyone should stay in the bunker for now. I advise you all have a good sleep." Facing the two captains he said,"We leave at dawn."


	8. chapter 6: parting of ways

**Chapter 6**

**Note: From now on, I will be splitting the story into 2 point of views. The first one will be the point of view of those involved in the quest. The other will be about the affairs of the town.**

**P.O.V: The quest**

The next morning, the 3 men Armal, Qwertus and Skryder set off from the village at the break of dawn. Not that it looked so different from night or day. Mysteriously, even though Sauron's power had been broken, the skies and air was still filled with choking ash that gave many people in the village respiratory problems and made it always look like night.

Before they left, they had loaded their horses' saddlepacks with a week's worth of basic nessecities, including a lot of non-perishable food, 3 waterskins( they were confident they could find more later), spare blades and a portable tent. Their horses trotted to the north gate of Nurnea. The silence was eerie. There was no usual chatter and talk of the people going off to work. All the shops were closed. There was no clanging of metal from the blacksmith's forges. In all, it gave the town the atmosphere of a graveyard.

At the northern gates of the town, a dozen guards saluted them as they rode past. Fear was evident in them. They kept staring at the horizon like they were expecting something horrible to appear and they gripped their weapons so tightly that their knucles were white. Armal knew that they were afraid not of the orcs, but of the magic that had strengthened them and poisoned their comrades to madness. He knew because he was also afraid of it.

In half an hour, they had rode out of the lands that was marked on the maps as Nurnea. Below them, the lands of Nurnea stretched out. It was not very beautiful, with all the ash and craggy rocks, but it was still the only place they had ever felt at home. Armal looked one last time at the walled town, the beloved place which he had helped to build and defend with his sweat and blood. Then he and his companions left, into the unknown.

_2 hours later_

" Ok," Qwertus said as he unfurled an ancient looking map of the former land of Mordor. "we should be somewhere around here." He pointed to a spot just outside of the borders of Nurnea.

"What!" Skryder shouted. " I thought we would be halfway to our destination already!"

" Quiet down Skryder! You will alert the orcs!" Qwertus hissed. He turned to Armal," Where do you think is the sorcerer's stronghold anyway."

" My best guess is that it will be somewhere around the ruins of Barad-Dur, the fortress of Sauron. That is where Black Magic is at its strongest," he replied. " If we are lucky and quick we should be there in 3 days. We must keep moving." As they remounted their horses and rode off to the line of dark, tall and sharp looking cliffs in the horizon, they knew that luck does not usually cross their paths.

**P.O.V: Nurnea**

_Dear Larcener/ Cyanus,_

_By the time you read this, I would be gone already. Both of you, here are your instructions: Ration the food evenly, don't let any orcs into the bunker, don't get out of the town and don't try anything stupid. I will be back in about a week._

_Good luck._

_Armal_

Cyanus had found the letter at her bar as she was cleaning it that morning. There was no point cleaning the bar anyway; everyone except her and Larcener were still barricaded in the bunker, but she still did it as it was already a regular routine that she had done for many years. She could not imagine leaving her old life as a bartender even for a week. However, she knew that she was one of the council members and thus she had to manage the village for the time being. She put down the letter and went to meet Larcener.

Larcener was already inside the bunker, inspecting it. He may just be a mechanic, but he had the open-mindedness of an inventor and thus had little problem switching roles. Today, he was dressed in his best clothes, which is just normal clothes with less holes and burn holes. The bunker was just a set of rooms hewn straight into the stone that was connected with a medium-sized cave system that they had discovered. The entrance, a regular looking trapdoor, was always guarded with at least 20 soldiers when empty and more than half the town guard when occupied. There was enough food and water stocked in there for a month. It was an excellent defensive position, except for one flaw: There was no escape route, so if the orcs somehow managed to get in, the people would be like fish in a barrel. Doomed.

After Larcener and Cyanus checked everything and found that everything was in order, Larcener left Cyanus to manage the supplies while he went to check on the wall. So far so good, Larcener thought. With luck, Armal, Skryder and Qwertus return victoriously within the week and he could go back to inventing and building more machines to make life easier.

However, Larcener and Cyanus had forgotten to check one area: the infirmintary. There, 3 patients who had been wounded in battle suddenly opened their eyes. They were red and filled with barely controlled madness.


	9. Chapter 7a: Surprise!

**Chapter 7a**

**P.O.V: The quest**

The trio rode north for the rest of the day to the cliffs ahead, only stopping twice to take a rest and to scout the area for danger. This was the first time in years that they had crossed out of the borders of Nurnea, out of the safe zone. Now, they were in an area that they had never been before. After they had ridden for a few hours, they realised that mordor looked the same almost everywhere. It was just miles after miles of barren, rocky, scorched land. Ash hung in the air, making the horses choke and wheeze in protest and greatly reducing their visibility.

Suddenly, Skryder stopped and said," Is it just me, or is the air suddenly thicker?" Everyone stopped. Indeed, it was getting harder to breathe. Their armor and horses were coated in a thick layer of black dust. The wind picked up and drove stinging black grit into their eyes. Armal shouted," It's a sandstorm, or rather, an ashstorm! We must pitch camp now or we will choke!" In a few minutes, they had set up a small tent that was just enough to fit the 3 people. After tying the horses in place, they quickly crawled in. And just in time. As they closed the opening in the tent, the wind became so strong that anything outside that was not secure would be blown away.

" Great. Now we are stuck. What do we do now?" Qwertus grumbled. Skryder responded by producing a pack of cards. After 2 hours, the wind began to die down. As the 3 people were finishing the game, suddenly, the tip of an orc spear shot through the thin canvas of the tent and impaled itself into ground, half an inch from Armal's head.

Armal drew his sword and burst out of the tent, ripping it further in the process. Outside, he could make out the shapes of a dozen horned figures outside the tent, readying their spears to impale whoever was still in the tents. Orcs! He cursed himself for not being alert enough.

He decapicitated one orc and used the hilt of his sword to knock out a second orc, kicking a third in the groin as he did so. By then, the rest of the orcs were aware of him. They dropped their spears and drew wicked looking serrated blades, surrounding him in a circle. Armal looked around. There was no way he could excape without getting heavily injured. One of the orcs raised his blade, a cruel grin on his face as he gloated in victory. Suddenly, the tip of a sword emerged from his stomach. The cruel grin was replaced with a look of absolute loathing and the orc crumpled to the ground, reddish-black blood spilling from the fatal wound.

The 2 captains went into action, slashing at the orcs with blinding speed and excellent technique. Wtihin a minute, the orcs all lay dead on the ground. They quickly checked the remains for anything of use but found nothing except for the weapons and armor that were too heavy for human use and a few bottles of repulsive orc concotion. They were about to burn the bodies now that the wind had died down completely when Armal noticed something strange.

All the slain orcs all had identical symbols of a red fiery eye burned onto their skin. They must have been part of the same group that attacked Nurnea. The orcs were not there by accident. Someone had ordered the orcs to kill them.

By then, the sky had become a slightly darker shade of grey, which meant it was already night. They decided to rest until morning as orcs are more active at night. "Hey, where's our tent?" Skryder suddenly said. The 'tent' had been reduced to a pile of ribbons in the fight. Thus, the 3 men spent a very miserable time sleeping on the hard ground, unable to light a fire in fear that it will attract more orcs. Like all other deserts and wastelands, Mordor was freezing cold at night.


	10. Chapter 7b: Town management

**Chapter 7b**

**P.O.V: Nurnea**

Cyanus was in the small office inside the bunker, reading reports about the economics and condition of Nurnea. Now, word had gotten to the merchants from the west and east of Middle-Earth that Nurnea was under attack and that a new evil is brewing. Now, no merchants would dare to set foot in the area that was once called Mordor. Thus, all the trade had stopped. In a way, it was good. The merchants that usually came by the hundreds would put a strain on the food supply. And in a siege, cut off from all help, money was virtually useless.

Suddenly, a soldier ran into her office without bothering to knock on the door. He was panting like he had run the length of the bunker. "Madame," he panted." We have a problem."

Larcener stood on the city walls, inspecting the defensive systems that he had invented one by one. So far, the newly installed catapults and scorpion ballistae that had come from his workshop were working perfectly. The walls were in good condition and the village guard stood in neat lines on its top. Armal had told him that there would not be an attack, but he could not help but feel nervous about something. That was why he had checked the defenses; his instincts had never been wrong.

Suddenly, a soldier on top of the watchtower shouted," Sir! You must see this." Larcener scrambled to the top of the tower and saw what the soldier was looking at.

Orcs

Thousands of orcs

Thousands of heavily armed orcs marching in perfect discipline with battle trolls lumbering behind them, holding banners crudely painted to resemble a large, flaming eye.

" You're right," Larcener whispered."We do have a problem."

Cyanus huffed and puffed as she stumbled along to where the soldier was leading her. The long run eventually led to the area which she recognised as the food stores. As they walked into the cavernous space, she saw - nothing wrong.

" What _ ," she was about to ask the soldier what she was supposed to see when she saw that many of the crates of food had been broken or even completely destroyed. Food lay scattered on the ground. She told the soldier to find some guards as the guards who were on duty there had mysteriously disappeared. She then lit a lamp and walked into the storage room.

She did not notice the three red-eyed figures creeping up behind her.


End file.
